The Dissension
by JesterBell
Summary: Desmond should really know better than to get involved in events which happened WAY before he was born- and he probably would know better, if it wasn't for the fact that he can't remember a thing.


**RIGHT! WELL! I took this story down, but I've decided to put it back up, since I am actively updating it again and improving the chapters as well. Some of the chapters will only be slightly changed, but some will have multiple more paragraphs and will be changed to how I see fit.**

**So, I decided to give the 'Desmond meets his ancestors' plot a go in case the summary didn't tip you off.**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own Assassin's creed. If I did, Desmond would get more love.**

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**The Dissension**

A sigh was let lose from the thinly pressed together lips of Desmond Miles; in a desperate attempt to ward against the prevailing images his eyes were presenting before his weary eyes. Letting the sigh go did little else but release only a slight amount of the tension that his whole body seemed to have been made up of recently. No one would really blame his anxiousness though, considering the amount of shit he was being put through. What, with the memories of people long deceased tormenting him until he wasn't sure what were his memories or theirs. It was undoubtedly confusing, but he resigned himself with the knowledge that it wouldn't be abating anytime soon.

Looking down (as though sealing his fate to images he knew would definitely be there), Desmond could see Ezio in Roma, where he was swinging around a tower in an attempt to see where lucrezia was holding Caterina- desperation to save the one he loved coursing through his veins and fuelling on his actions to break neck speeds.

He sighed once again- only slightly perturbed as these images were somewhat common now-a-days- rocking his legs back and forth from his place on top of the rather impressive sized Villa in Monteriggioni . Tilting his head back to gaze at the overcast sky ahead- foreboding. As though waiting for the chance to rain- Desmond decided to just feel instead of look.

The orange tinted tiles were rough and bumpy under his callused hands, yet refreshing and surprisingly soothing for his mind- Stable, _there_. the wind brushing lightly against his face was cool and new- a feeling _he_ was experiencing, _not_ someone else. The slight rays of sunlight which peeked through the clouds above warmed up his legs and made him feel brighter along with it. Desmond pushed himself onto the rooftop a bit more, placed his hands behind his head and lent back to rest his eyes with as much of a smile as he seemed to be able to form these days- so that the suns rays were directly on him (since you never know- they might rejuvenate him even more).

When he closed his eyes, however, no safe haven was presented their.

The image of Altair stabbing Al Mualim with no regret in his eyes assaulted him as though he was Al Mualim. Him- _No_, _Altair_ was now walking towards the apple, with slight hesitance in his steps since he had just been given a prime example of what the Apple was capable of first hand.

Sometimes, Desmond wondered if any of this would ever stop. Just. Stop- not that wondering ever solved anything. He supposed that, No, they wouldn't stop, and, Yes, he still had to go in the Animus. He laughed morbidly before opening his eyes, bringing his arms back to his sides and using them to righten himself, with a bit of difficulty, into a sitting position again.

_'God...'_ He thought with a bitter smile, _'I'm goin' crazy,_'

It had occurred to Desmond, before he had even gone into the Animus 2.0, that he was probably going to come out crazy, just like subject 16 had- although thankfully, it seemed like he had artists block, since he never felt the urge to draw pretty, indecipherable, abstract pictures with his blood. But wouldn't that be swell-going crazy that is, not being suicidal-? Not like they could stop putting him in the machine, unless they wanted the world to end that is. But, they couldn't have that, could they? So, Desmond, its ok, just lay down. What was that? Where are we taking you? Why do you have to put on this white jacket? Ohhhh, this one? You sure its not just the Bleeding Effect wrecking your mind? Yes, that's good. Yep, get in the little white room.

Yeah, Desmond wasn't exactly impressed, but what choice did he have in the grand scheme of things?

Tilting his head down to glance at his watch, he realised he only had two minutes left to high-tale his arse into the Villa before he would be detected by any stray wandering fools- who don't actually exist. Desmond rolled his eyes in exasperation. He pushed his body into a position to climb down the side of the building, when he saw something in his peripheral sight which intrigued him enough to halt his decent for a moment.

Looking upon it in curiosity, Desmond turned on his eagle vision. What he saw, was a path of what looked to be blood. Now, curiosity really did get the better of him from here on out- he decided to follow it, completely ignoring the warning Lucy gave about him only having a minute to get back to the Villa.

He lowered himself down the building steadily, using the experience that viewing Altair's and Ezio's memories gave him- the only decent thing the Animus seemed to be good for when it concerned him. Touching the ground, Desmond began to make his way past the other Florecen buildings to where he presumed the trail was. Stopping when he found it, he looked up at the steadily rising sun in the cloudy sky, before following it.

It led him directly to the front of the Assassin's symbol.

_'Huh_,' Desmond thought, glancing at his watch, _'That's all? And here I thou-OH SHIT!_' Desmond resisted the urge to swear even more when he saw that- after a second glance at his watch to be sure- he did, indeed, only have about ten seconds to get back to the Villa, before the supposed 'Templars' that Lucy, Shaun, and Rebecca all warned him about came and snatched him away right from under their noses.

He turned around, prepared to free-run his arse all the way back to the secret entrance lest he face the wrath of Lucy, when, he pondered, in a split moment decision, what could possibly happen if he stayed out. Nothing. Nothing would, he decided without the slightest bit of hesitation. the others were just too paranoid for their own good- and they weren't even allowed to be since he was the one in the Animus who was experiencing the memories of some of the most paranoid people in existence. So, he stood in front of the symbol with his arms crossed across his chest defiantly for the next ten seconds with his eyes closed.

Now, what happened next is uneventful to say the least.

Nothing happened.

No Templars snatched him up.

No Lucy, screaming at him to get back through the ear piece- as it had gone a little funny.

No sound effects.

No impressive light display.

Nothing.

'Huh,' Desmond thought, not impressed in the slightest and opening his eyes into slits. He felt disappointed in all actuality, and slightly chuffed since he had expected something grand to happen since he had followed a trail of what looked to be blood. (a trail of blood was always the start of a great murder mystery!).

"-Infidel! Stop!" Wait, what?

Desmond's eyes snapped open completely in shock- his head snapping up from its slightly lowered position to scan his surroundings. The area around him had changed from the regular Florecen scenery, to one which depicted the middle-east where Altair regularly did his assassinations. There were long, dirt roads packed with beggars and ragged people who seemed worse for wear. All the people in the area wore frowns- which clued Desmond into the fact that this was probably a poor district. The buildings surrounding him were high enough to slightly block the over heated rays of sun, provided you stood in the shade underneath them since the shadows were not that large. The building themselves were grey in colour and had linen cloth hanging from the open windows, with bricks which were slightly jutted out which made for easy climbing. Haybails were scattered across the area, with the occasional horse trotting about eating from them, before moving onwards towards a smallish fountain which was the only available source of water in the small district.

Desmond's head swam in confusion. He had no idea what was going on. It was as though he had stepped into Altair's memories again, as himself, which just furthered his confusion and left him disoriented and dizzy; which is how he completely missed the rock behind him. The rock which was conveniently placed before a haybail behind him. Which caused- as he fell into it- his arms to flail dramatically around him. His head was left unprotected from the fall as he hit the wooden underside with a great thunk, knocking him out. Leaving darkness to take over his vision.

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**Right, first chapter sorted. So please tell me what you think :3 **

**Any view, review, alert or favourite is appriciated **


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